Guimauves
by CPMiller
Summary: Katalia (OFC human, mage) has finally worked up the nerve to give The Iron Bull a gift, except she hasn't quite got the nerve to give it to him directly. Drawn by her fear, Cole intervenes attempting to help and ends up creating a tangle of fear and suspicion instead. Set shortly after arriving in Skyhold when the keep was a bit of a ruin still, so people are still using tents.
1. Ch1 Choking on Fear

A/N: I've been working on this fanfic for about 6 weeks now, and it's finally finished (because I'm forcing myself to stop tweaking so I can share it with everyone).

It should be noted, in this take on Dragon Age Inquisition, The Chargers are still relatively new to being part of the Inquisition so Krem doesn't know Cole yet and The Iron Bull is still very uncomfortable with him, but starting to warm up to the spirit.

This Chapter contain: Anxiety, angst, self doubt, a graphic metaphor from Cole that might disturb some, consideration of mercy killing, suicide/non-existence thoughts, and it should be noted, in this take on Dragon Age Inquisition, The Chargers are still relatively new to being part of the Inquisition so Krem doesn't know Cole yet and The Iron Bull is still very uncomfortable with him, but starting to warm up to the spirit. The Iron Bull saved the chargers. Cole has not done his personal quest.

Guimauves Chapter 1 Choking on Fear

Katalia stared at the little glass jar of fluffy white guimauves. They would go stale if she kept them stashed in her tent too many more days. "I'll just. . .leave them in his tent. He'll never know it was me." She wavered and began arguing with herself under her breath. "No, that's stupid. If he doesn't know it's me, then he'll continue not noticing me, _and_ he might think they're poisoned or something." Frustrated she kicked at her rolled up bedding and fixed it with an angry stare as if it were withholding the solution from her. "I'll leave a note with them. Yes, that'll work. He might be suspicious, but there's a chance. . .maybe..." Setting the jar aside, she sat down and pulled out her writing case. Hastily, she scratched out a note, then blew on it to dry the ink more quickly and finally folded it up carefully.

The Iron Bull was normally off doing field practice with the Chargers and some of the Inquisition troops at this hour, she thought as she made her way through the small city of canvas. Those few who were off duty relaxed in groups among the tents chatting, playing cards or dice, or having a meal. Katalia tried to walk slowly and not to look over her shoulder or otherwise convey she was up to anything. There, her goal, a cluster of tents with one larger than any of the other small personal tents nearby. She glanced around, could see no one looking at her, then she ducked into his tent.

Leather, steel, and sweat mingled in the air intense and unexpected, but after a moment surprisingly pleasant in a warm musky way. It occurred to her as she scanned the inside of the tent for a place to put the guimauves that she had never seen The Iron Bull bathing. Cheeks warming, she swallowed and tried to push that thought away. Her heart was pounding, fear of being caught at any moment beginning to make her feel more than a little frantic.

Against one wall of the tent was a thick roll of bedding wide enough for even The Iron Bull to rest comfortably on. Thoughts of laying in his tent, stretched out beside him, her hand - "Stop it." She whispered harshly to herself. "You don't have time for that right now." Increasingly explicit thoughts continued to form, but she pushed them to the back of her mind as much as possible.

There was really very little in the tent. A writing kit was closed and laying in the far corner, and next to it a large iron reinforced chest with a hefty lock. Most likely that was where he kept gold on hand for the Chargers' needs or maybe a few personal possessions. She set the jar of guimauves down on the flat top of the chest with the note tucked under it.

Nearly frantic to be gone before she could be caught, Katalia turned and ducked out of the tent. Outside, in the cool air once more, she froze trying to stop the trembling in her fingers. No one. No one was waiting to catch her or even seemed to notice she was standing there. She took a deep steadying breath, then turned and walked as calmly as she could through the camp.

Down the narrow lane between tents, she went jumping only a little as a familiar voice spoke echoing her thoughts. "Trembling, fearful, will it work? Will he know it was _me_?"

"Hush Cole, not here." Katalia shushed him, her startlement passing quickly as he fell into step beside her from seemingly out of nowhere. Normally, she would be glad of a chance to talk to him about spirits, about the Fade, but for the last few weeks, she had been avoiding him to the best of her ability. She knew he would pick up on her rising distress and had made every effort to not cross his path hoping to avoid causing him distress.

"But I don't understand. . ." Cole had heard her fear from clear across the camp as it spiked upon entering The Iron Bull's tent. It had shrieked at him, demanded he come to help however he could, but he didn't understand how he could help with this hurt. "He can't know it was you if you don't tell him."

"Hhhsshhht!" Katalia shushed him again more sharply this time, then let her thoughts answer for her. The Iron Bull was former Ben-Hassrath and he noticed little details. She had heard him talk about it when he was in the tavern with the Inquisitor or one of the Inquisitor's inner circle. Her amulet cord used to tied the note would still smell faintly of dawn lotus and a hint of cinnamon from the perfume she wore, one of the few luxuries she permitted herself and unique to her because she made it herself. He might even remember her passing by when he got his order of cocoa from Varric. A familiar scent could trigger memories far more sharply than any other sense. The note itself would put him on high alert, and he'd start noticing everyone around him. Maybe he would notice her. Maybe he had noticed her already.

Cole struggled to grasp the flurry of conscious thoughts with their tumultuous under current of fears. Always, it came back to the surface. "Swirling, spinning, bobbing up like dead bodies. _What if he doesn't want me? What if no one ever wants me?_ "

Katalia froze in mid step at Cole's soft voice, her heart aching to hear those fears uttered aloud. "I'll survive." She whispered knowing he could hear her over the noise of fighters sparring and people chatting.

Cole tried to offer her reassurance. "The Iron Bull likes women Katalia. He likes men too, but why are you so afraid he won't like you?" Cole asked wanting more than anything in that moment to find the right thread to pull and unravel her tangled knot of fear and doubt.

"Let's..talk somewhere less public." Katalia whispered her voice rough as her throat tightened with suppressed emotion. Her fingers wrapped gently around Cole's thin wrist and she led him away from the camp out of earshot of possible eavesdroppers, and further still until the noise of camp dwindled to a background murmur competing with the whistling wind.

Cole met her gaze with a look of sympathy, saw the tears she blinked back to keep them from falling. "You are so scared. Your hurt is so deep. How did I not hear it before?" He felt...guilty. Yes, that was what he felt. He was always listening, always looking for hurts to heal, but he had missed hers somehow despite talking with her from time to time about the Fade.

Katalia tried to find the right words to help him understand. "It's like a river Cole. Sometimes the waters are low and placid, just a twinge of pain, and sometimes..." her throat tightened further strangling her voice into silence. She tried to speak, lips moving, but no sound would come forth.

"Sometimes it rains, and the river floods, the pain spills like blood from an opened throat even though your throat is tight, closed, clenched." Cole finishes for her, and she nods, eyes still blinking back salt water.

"Yes." She whispered, her voice rasping slightly feeling suddenly raw and dry.

"But I can help." He said, brightening, reaching for her. "I can find the hurt and help you forget it, drain the pain away so the river never floods again."

Katalia backed away, avoiding his reach. "No, Cole. You can't."

Cole lowered his hand, searching through her pain for it's center. "The children teased you because you were quiet, smart, different somehow. You were all mages though. All part of the circle. Why did they hurt you for being different? I don't understand. I can't find the center." His frustration rose from a desperate desire to help, but there was no center or rather there were too many centers, too many memories of pain. "Teasing, taunting, tormenting, but it's over now. It doesn't happen anymore." Cutting them all away would diminish her, change her too much. It wouldn't be right.

"No, now they're afraid of me or they hate me because I'm a mage or from the Imperium. Dorian's lucky, close to the Inquisitor and bold as brass. I wish I could be like that." Katalia said in wistful ignorance.

"You want to sparkle the way he does?" Cole asked and got a brief flash of amusement as she chuckled. He didn't say more, didn't tell her of the pain Dorian suffered with, because he knew the man wouldn't like it if he did, and he wasn't sure it would help Katalia to know.

"Yes, but I can't be the way he is. It's just not in me." Katalia said and realized she was hugging herself but couldn't remember when she'd started.

"I want to make the hurt less, but I don't know how. There are so many knots..." Cole had seen hurts this deep and dark before, mostly in the mages of the tower who had wanted death. His fingers brushed the hilts of his daggers as he searched for a way to help. Her eyes were fixed on the camp, her thoughts drifting to The Iron Bull. She wanted the pain to stop, the fear to go away. Fingers closed around hilts. "I can make it stop." Cole said, his voice gone cold as the winter wind. They had taught him it was not the best way, but what if, sometimes, it was the only way...too many knots to ever unravel them all. Pain tangled tight around fear, the knots so rigid they strangled her words and made it hard to breathe sometimes.

Blinking away thoughts of the qunari, Katalia fixed her gaze and attention on Cole again trying to smile, but her lips wouldn't cooperate. "I don't want it to stop Cole...I just...want it to hurt a little less than it does right now." She didn't notice where his hands were, didn't realize how close to death she had been for a moment.

Cole's fingers loosened and the daggers settled back into their sheathes. "I will help." There had to be another way. He would find it. The Iron Bull was a good man, smart and kink. Though he had his own hurts, Cole was confident he would want to help once he understood.

"How?" Katalia asked, but Cole was gone as if he had never been, and she was alone at the fringes of the camp. Sighing deeply, she started back toward Skyhold. She needed a new cord for her amulet. Maybe a chain for it instead.

"The Iron Bull, I must speak with you." Cole appeared suddenly, blocking the qunari's path.

He had half started to swing at the spirit boy when he recognized him and growled in irritation.

"Damnit Kid! _Weird_ crap! Crap like _that_! Don't _do_ it." With a sigh, The Iron Bull relaxed and scratched at the base of a horn, then gestured for the Chargers to continue on. "Go stow your gear guys. I'll catch up." He waited until his men had moved on before speaking again. "Alright Kid. What's got you all riled up?"

The jolt of fear his abrupt appearance caused in The Iron Bull disrupted Cole's focus. Though his initial panic was suppressed immediately, the deeper terror remained, a fear of demons. Childhood nightmares, The Iron Bull still didn't like the dark, though he would never admit it.

Cole started to explain but the fears of the human and the qunari mingled and muddled making his words more confused than usual. "There is a woman, hurting. In your tent." Even at this distance, he could feel the impression of her pain on the little jar, her panic in the hastily written note. "She's afraid. Her gift is fearful." The Iron Bull might think the guimauves poisoned, Katalia had feared, still feared. He didn't think of mages as badly as some, but...she was an apostate, and trained in Tevinter. Blood and spirits, her weapons and armor. The Iron Bull wouldn't like that. Wouldn't trust her blood. Her spirits would make him nervous, and he would hide it behind jokes or threats. "You won't like it." Cole was fairly certain he wouldn't like that someone had been in his tent in secret either.

The words were coming out too fast meaning everything and nothing. The Iron Bull's look of confusion made that clear enough. Cole was tense, staring up at the qunari with a desperate expression. "I'm saying it all wrong. I have to help. Have to find the _right_ words." Rarely had he felt so frustrated, so helpless to help.

"Kid, Kid! Slow down. One thought at a time, one word at a time. Now, what about this hurt woman in my tent?" The Iron Bull asked trying to put a coherent explanation to Cole's frantic words, though he was pretty sure there wasn't an injured female in his tent.

Cole spoke managing with an effort to make himself more clear. "She was in your tent. Before. But now, she isn't. She left you a gift. She likes you, but she's afraid. The fear hurts."

"Yeah, I get that a lot." The Iron Bull grumbled following the words with a sigh of frustration. It was easy when they just wanted him, but sometimes they were scared of him too, and that could make things weird and complicated. Speaking of weird, "Ok, so some lady in the camp has a thing for me but won't come out and say it, so she got me, what? A new eye patch?" He asked jokingly.

"No. She got you little clouds of sugar. A whole jar of them, all the way from Orlais. They cost a lot, it was hard to get that much extra coin, but she thought you would enjoy them, and that made her happy while she worked, but when she got them the fear came back. It claws at her thoughts, tearing hope to bloody bits until she cries and feels like...not dieing but not wanting to live, to exist. She was too scared to give them to you. Until today. Don't be afraid The Iron Bull. The clouds are tasty. Your favorite." Coles spoke, still trying to sort through all the tangles, steadily separating Katalia's hurts from The Iron Bull's.

The Iron Bull snorted, trying to follow Cole's words, but he was still a little unsettled by the spirit. Cole's description of the woman's mental state didn't exactly thrill him either, almost pushing his thoughts back to Seheron. He'd seen all too much of what fear could push people to do, but he resisted going down that mental path, and forced himself to refocus on something else. "Kid, I don't eat clouds. I eat food. Or drink beer." He glanced away to the sight of his men settling in after training or heading out to relax elsewhere in camp. "I'd be on my way to having a drink right now if you hadn't... _appeared_ that way you do."

"I am sorry The Iron Bull. I want the words to mean what I know, but I say them wrong." Cole apologized.

Feeling sorry for him, remembering how hard it had been when he had first learned the Trade tongue, The Iron Bull forced himself to be patient. "It's alright Kid. C'mon. Show me these 'clouds' in my tent, and keep trying to explain. I'll let you know when it makes sense." Together they walked the rest of the way to the qunari's tent.

"You both have deep fear. Hurts I can't untangle. Too many knots. I can't cut them all away. Blood and spirit, she studies to not be afraid of herself. Or are you afraid of her...? The Iron Bull, are you afraid of blood and spirits?" Cole asked as several knots touched, blended, their edges blurring together. It was harder to know who was afraid of what when the knots were so similar.

"I'm not afraid Kid. I just don't like _weird_ crap. Blood's fine, as long as it's not blood magic. Spirits? Just another word for Demons. Ah. No offense Kid." Bull amended as he ducked into his tent. He saw the jar immediately with the little rolled up note tied with a bow of green leather cord. "Guimauves. Are these your clouds Kid?"

Cole brightened. "Yes. Guimauves. Sweet, fluffy, floating in a cup like clouds in the sky. She got them for you. She likes them in her cocoa too, but she hasn't eaten any of them. They're all for you. She is nice The Iron Bull. You don't have to be afraid of her."

"Where's she from? Ferelden? Orlais?" Bull asked digging for information as he pulled out the cork stopper sealing the jar. He sniffed at the contents and could smell only sugar, vanilla, and a hint of roses. Pressing the cork back in, he set the jar down and untied the note.

"No...She is kind and hurting. Why does anything else matter?" It was as close to sounding defensive as Cole had ever come when speaking with him.

"Where you're from has an impact on who you are kid. People from the same place tend to think alike. Not always, but usually." Bull explained as he scanned the note.

Cole spoke what was on the paper and in it. "I hope you will enjoy this gift of Orlesian guimauves. You might think it's poisoned, but it's not. I promise. Promise of hope, a chance to be noticed, gleaming like the sun, bright but burning. Although, they will go stale soon, I'm afraid. Frightened of rejection, isolation, of the pain never ending until _the end_. A secret admirer. Can't be rejected if she stays unknown. Keeping her distance, but longing to be closer. You are a fire to her The Iron Bull. She flutters like a moth, wanting to be nearer but afraid of burning up. Ashes. Dieing again. She is a _good_ mage The Iron Bull. Bleeding, singing, sighing, healing other's hurts with her red magic." Cole felt the fear, a cold prickle of terror and knew he had said the wrong thing. "No, The Iron Bull. Forget I said it. I said it wrong. Let me try again." But it was no use. He had let himself stick in the qunari's memory too long. He couldn't pull a memory of his words loose now.

Bull snorted derisively. "She's a _blood_ mage Cole. You just said it. They're as bad as demons. Worse. Next, you're going to tell me she's a Vint too, but one of the 'good' ones." He crushed the note in his hand, crumpling the delicate paper.

"Dorian is from Tevinter...but you don't trust him completely either. Do you trust anyone The Iron Bull?" Cole's gaze was piercing in it's depths as he searched the qunari's memories. " _Cold sweat, blankets sticking. 'Tama, they're in the shadows Tama!' She won't come. I have to face my fears myself. Trust myself, no one else._ " Cole said, then with more determination. "I am a Spirit The Iron Bull. I move through shadows. Am... _I_ as bad as demons?" Cole asked his confidence dwindling, his words finishing softly as his own fears crowded out all other sounds of hurt for a moment.

Bull rounded on him, bearing down on the smaller man, leaning over him. Any other living creature would have run, or at least taken a step back, but Cole stood, still as a statue, meeting Bull's one good eye with two uncertain blue ones. His voice rumbled with fury feeling shame at the old fears Cole dredged to the surface of his mind. "When you say weird crap like that, get in my head, that's Demon crap Kid, and I _don't like it_. You're not a demon? Then tell me who the blood mage is." Even in anger, shaken by old fears he was thinking, calculating.

Cole opened his mouth, hesitating. His own fears threatened to betray Katalia's trust in him. He didn't want to be a demon. "Her name..." He didn't want to hurt people. Heal the hurt, help the helpless. That was his purpose, his reason for being. If he told The Iron Bull her name now, he would hurt her or inform others so they could hurt her. Pushing down his fear he listened for The Iron Bull's mind. " _Her name, if I can get that, she'll be dealt with. No danger to the camp, to the Chargers. To me. No cold sweat watching shadows flit and flicker._ I am sorry The Iron Bull. I said it wrong. I made the hurts swarm, sting, buzzing through your mind so you can't see the truth. She is _good_ The Iron Bull. Sweet and fragile like the little clouds of sugar. They _aren't_ poisoned." Before Bull could grab him, he faded away, leaving the tent like a breath of wind. He couldn't make The Iron Bull forget his words, but he could still make himself unseen. What a mess he'd made. Sometimes, healing the hurts was very hard to do.

A wordless roar of frustration filled the tent, and the Chargers came running. Krem opened the tent flap with one hand a sword in his other. More Chargers stood ready just behind him. "You alright Chief?" He asked, looking around the empty tent before lowering his sword slowly.

"Yeah. Fine." He growled and pushed past his second. "Where's the Inquisitor? Or Nightingale?" No good in telling the Chargers, it would just put them at risk to know the truth might even start a panic in the camp if someone over heard. The peace between mages and non-mages in the Inquisition was still a fragile thing.

"Uh, I dunno Chief. Sorry." Krem said moving to the side out of his way. He watched the qunari stomp off grumbling and cursing, then he picked up the paper crumpled on the ground and smoothed it out carefully. Krem chuckled and scratched his head. "Chief's got a secret admirer." He informed the other Chargers. "Got him a jar of guimauves all the way from Orlais. Wonder why he's so upset about it...?"

Cole whispered in his ear offering an explanation. "He's afraid of being watched by someone unseen. He likes the guimauves though. They're tasty. You should take them to him. Reassure him you have his back." As quietly as he'd appeared, Cole slipped away satisfied that Krem would be able to help loosen the tangle he'd inadvertently created.

"Yeah...that's a good idea." Krem nodded and scooped up the jar as the rest of the Chargers dispersed to return to interrupted activities. The cork was loose and the scent of the sweets inside enticing. He popped one in his mouth before tightening the stopper and following after his Chief.

Krem caught up to the qunari just outside where Lelliana could normally be found coordinating her network. "Hey Chief. You forgot these." Krem held out the jar, swallowing one last guimauve. He'd ended up eating a decent handful, surprised then enticed by their unusual texture. "Sorry, I kinda...had a few. They're good. Whoever gave'em to you must think a lot of you Chief."

The Iron Bull turned, his eye widening with distress as Krem spoke. "You _ate_ some?! How many?"

Krem took a step back misunderstanding his commander's concern. "I'm sorry Chief. I only had a couple."

"Damnit Krem! Those things could be poisoned!" Iron Bull snarled clarifying his second's misconceptions in a most gut wrenching way.

"Poisoned?" Krem asked, swallowing. He was no coward in a fight, but poison wasn't something you could beat with a sword. "They're not from a secret admirer?" It had been so easy to imagine someone in camp liking the Chief but too scared to approach him; the man often had that effect on people. No other possibility had occurred to him, and couldn't think why someone would want to poison the Chief.

"They _aren't_ poisoned." Cole said appearing between them and staring up at The Iron Bull stubbornly.

"Again with the weird ass demon crap!" This time, The Iron Bull swung in frustration at the situation and worry for Krem, but knowing he wouldn't be likely to actually hit Cole with such an obvious strike. The boy ducked, vanished, and came back into sight behind Krem.

"Krem will be fine. I told you. She's _good_. She doesn't want to hurt people. She's just afraid." Cole said stubbornly as the second in command of the Chargers stepped to one side and turned to face him. "It will be alright."

"Chief? Should I head to a healer?" Krem asked wishing he hadn't left his sword back at the tent when he'd walked off with the guimauves.

"Yeah. Get going. Tell 'em you ate something _weird_." When his second didn't move, The Iron Bull gave him a push. "Go Krem. I'll be fine. Just gotta deal with this crap. You get yourself looked over. Don't take no for an answer."

"Yes sir." Krem turned and started jogging toward the healer's tents.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed and will come back for Chapter 2. Please Rate, Review, and Share!


	2. Ch2 Struggling with Uncertainty

A/N: This chapter contains an obnoxious trans-phobic character (briefly). I apologize if my portrayal of Krem isn't quite spot on. I did my best.

Chapter 2 Struggling with Uncertainty

Katalia hugged her cloak against the winter wind blowing through camp. "Apostate! You there! The Vint Apostate! I'm talking to you!" An angry and all too familiar female voice hollered at her as she tried to pass by where the healer's were set up to administer to the ill and injured.

Sighing, Katalia turned and tried to smile politely. "Yes?"

"See to this _mercenary_. I don't have time to deal with this nonsense. There are **actual** injured to tend to." Jayllynn spoke with her usual tone of condescension. "I'm sure with your perverse Vint tastes, you two will get along splendidly." The Ferelden mage finished with a sneer of condescension.

Frowning in confusion, Katalia looked past the mage to the person behind her. "Krem?" His face was flushed with rising frustration at the healer who kept referring to him as a woman.

"Ah, so you two know each other. How _un_ surprising." Jaylynn's tone was as scathing as she could make it.

"No, I'm merely attentive enough to familiarize myself with my allies." Katalia shot back, her patience for the woman's jibes vanishing as she realized someone else was a target. "It's good to know which **men** you can trust for when it's time to eliminate your enemies." It was gratifying to watch the color drain from the Ferelden woman's face. "If you'll excuse me Healer, I have a **man** to see to." Katalia said sweeping past the stuttering woman before she could recover herself.

Krem followed a step behind Katalia, the heat slowly draining from his face. "Thanks. That one's always giving me trouble." He said rubbing the back of his neck.

"That one is going to give the wrong person trouble one of these days." Katalia muttered irritably stopping when they came nearer a large open tent. It was crowded inside, so she lingered in the open air out of the way.

"We haven't met before. Have we?" Krem asked trying to place her face framed by long dark auburn hair. There weren't very many red heads around camp, and he was sure he'd seen her before, but he couldn't put a name to the pale face.

"No, not formally. My name's Katalia." She smiled a bit unable to quite meet the warrior's gaze. "I recognized you because other soldiers have mentioned you." She saw the look of consternation reforming on Krem's face and clarified, her slight smile growing a little wider. "They only make the mistake of underestimating you in a sparring match once. The Bull's Chargers have earned themselves quite a reputation."

"Oh." A proud smirk tugged at the corner of Krem's mouth, and he stood a bit straighter squaring his shoulders.

"Speaking of sparring injuries, you don't look to have any. What brings you to the healers?" Katalia asked after glancing over him for any obvious indication of injury or illness.

"Ah, it's kinda stupid really. Chief thinks I might have eaten something weird. Wanted me to get checked out for poisoning." Krem admitted sheepishly not meeting the mage's green eyes for more than a moment or two. The more time passed, the more he suspected Cole was right and the Chief mistaken.

"Something 'weird' huh? Can you be a little more specific? A mushroom? An herb?" Katalia asked her eyebrows rising questioningly, and her matter of fact tone just made Krem feel more foolish about the whole thing.

". . ." _Who puts poison in guimauves with a secret admirer note_? _It's ridiculous. Chief's just being paranoid,_ the Tevinter born warrior thought to himself. The Iron Bull wasn't prone to irrational paranoia, but he had been wrong a few times over the years they'd worked together. Krem cleared his throat and continued to avoid her now penetrating gaze by fiddling with his gauntlets. "Somebody sent the Chief guimauves, and he's got it in his head they might be poisoned. I only ate a couple...but he made a fuss. Worse than a mother hen, he is sometimes." His nervous chuckle followed the words.

A distressed look settled on Katalia's face. "But they weren't for you," blinking she caught at the words too late to stop them and quickly added, "Why would you eat them if they were sent to The Iron Bull?"

"I...dunno really. They just smelled so good." Krem replied caught off guard by the direction of her question and trying to remember exactly why he had eaten a few. In the very back of his mind he wondered briefly why she seemed almost personally offended by his admission. He could almost remember a voice, but not quite. It was a disconcerting feeling, like he'd forgotten something potentially important. "I think the idea of a secret admirer spooked the Chief. Y'know, someone watching you that you don't even notice. It's a little creepy." Krem finished with a shrug and another short chuckle. "The Chief, he prides himself on noticing everyone and every thing, so to miss something like that. Heh, his pride's probably a little hurt too."

Katalia swallowed and moved behind Krem pretending to examine the back of his neck. "Well, you have to admit...he's a little intimidating." She pointed out doing her utmost to restrain the defensive tone of her words. She wasn't being creepy. Was she...? Biting her lip, Katalia changed the subject. "No sign of a rash. Some poisons cause the throat to swell and close and a rash can be visible, but I don't see one. Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous? Shaky? Any difficulty breathing?" She asked the questions rapidly one after another, intentionally trying to unbalance the mercenary mentally to make him less likely to catch onto her act.

"No, none of that. What if it's a slow acting poison?" Krem asked starting to get nervous again, and the light intimate brush of the apostate's soft fingers against the back of his neck only added to his discomfort.

"Well, I can take you into a private tent and-" Before she could finish her sentence Krem stepped away from her and turned to face her with brows drawn together in confused anxiety.

"What? Into a private tent? Why?" He felt like he was getting mixed signals both from her and himself. She was pretty, but something was off about her that he couldn't quite put his finger on, and that made him nervous. A lingering sensation of her fingers on his skin didn't help him focus. Rubbing his neck, he tried to put an end to the sensation. She wasn't coming toward him, though there was an expression of serious concern on her face, almost hurt.

Confused, Katalia held her distance. She had thought Krem might be less suspicious of mages being from Tevinter, but perhaps the opposite was true. "Just an examination tent. So I can check your condition more thoroughly. It's a very simple spell of discernment to identify an infection or contamination. You won't feel anything, but armor and...er..well clothing can interfere with the spell." Again she could bring herself to meet his gaze, so fixed her own on the ground. "I'm afraid there's not much else I can do unless you start showing symptoms, though I really doubt you have anything to worry about." Katalia spoke as gently as she could wanting to reassure Krem there was nothing to fear, but afraid of giving herself away. She knew the suspicion of poison wasn't personal - it couldn't be since he didn't know who she was, and she had thought Bull might suspect such a thing. Still, it tore at her heart to know her gift was being perceived as a threat and Krem's comment about it being creepy echoed through her thoughts.

"Thanks, but that's alright. I think the Chief's being paranoid about this. I'll let him know I'm fine. Thank you for your time." Krem nodded stiffly before turning on his heel and swiftly departing.

"You're welcome." Katalia called as she watched him walk quickly away. 'It's a little creepy,' kept repeating in her thoughts. Maybe the Inquisition wasn't the right place for her after all. Doubts crowded her mind as she moved into the tent to offer her assistance. Working would give her something to focus on so she didn't have to think about those words.

"Boss, what're you doing?" The Iron Bull watched as the Inquisitor examined the jar of guimauves, then to his distress ate one. "Boss, don't!" Too late. The darkly tanned elf chewed on the fluffy sweet, then popped another in his mouth.

"They taste splendid my strapping Bull. I really think you're being overly cautious." Taven said swallowing the guimauve and grinning at the distressed qunari. He trusted Cole's assertions over Bull's suspicions. "You have an admirer, no doubt more than one, but this particular one-"

"Is a _blood_ mage." The Iron Bull interrupted, emphasizing the point. "It's dangerous to have her in camp. We saw what they're capable of in the Western Approach: raising demons, controlling people. It's the worst kind of weird magic crap, and for all we know, she could be a Venatori spy."

Taven's gaze sharpened dangerously. He really didn't like being cut off in mid-sentence. "And Cole assures me she is not that sort of person." He turned to the odd young man, and found him missing. Glancing around, he spotted Cole whispering to a guard. A moment later he was returning to where Taven, Leliana, and Bull were. "Cole, has this woman hurt anyone in the camp?"

"No," Cole said with a smile. The Inquisitor understood him better than most. "She heals the hurts. Sometimes," his smile faded a little, "when the hurt is very bad, she hurts herself, uses her blood to heal. She is a _good_ person Taven."

"And what about outside the camp?" The Iron Bull asked pointedly. "That kind of mage tends to have a history Boss." He glowered at Cole for an answer.

"She only hurts to heal. To prevent more hurt. Like we do. She killed _bad_ people, but only when she had no other choice." He hesitated a moment, then continued. "I don't think she is a spy Taven, but I can't see the things that don't hurt..." It bothered him to think it, but he needed the Inquisitor to understand there were limits to his abilities.

"Sounds like you have doubts Cole." The Iron Bull pressed, scowling down at him.

"I trust her." Cole replied stubbornly, staring up at the qunari without flinching.

For a moment, Taven's customary grin slipped a little as he considered their words. Unlike most of his Dalish fellows, he didn't like dwelling on the past. Finally, he spoke before the conversation could escalate further. "We all have histories Iron Bull." A moment later the grin was back in place. "At any rate, her interest seems to be the future. In the spectacular arms of a former Ben-Hassrath." He teased, grin spreading to show a flash of white teeth against darkly tanned skin as Bull frowned in frustration.

"We should identify her if nothing else." Leliana said, recognizing the direction the Inquisitor was going. "As a precaution."

"No." Cole shook his head as Leliana glanced to him inquiringly. "She isn't hurting anyone. If more people know, then they might try to hurt her. She would fight to protect herself and people would get hurt."

Taven stroked his curling bright auburn goatee thoughtfully. "In this, I must agree with you oh loveliest of nightingales." He nodded to Leliana, then added to reassure Cole and with a pointed look at The Iron Bull, "But Cole has a point too. We don't want anyone attacking her if she's not causing trouble. No one is to out her as a blood mage or take any action against her so long as she continues to act in the interests of the Inquisition. Am I understood?"

"Yeah Boss. Understood." The Iron Bull spoke, clearly unhappy with the decision. He'd warn the Chargers to be on the watch for anything out of the ordinary, but nothing more.

"There are a few other matters I would like to discuss with you Inquisitor." Leliana said and waited. Bull took the hint and nudged Cole toward the door. Together they departed the office with its clutter of books and scrolls.

"You should have some of the guimauves in your cocoa The Iron Bull. It will make you feel better." Cole said before vanishing on his blind side.

Grumbling, The Iron Bull looked at the jar in his hand consideringly. As though on cue, Krem walked up. "There you are Chief. Healers said I'm fine far as they can tell."

"Good to hear Krem." He felt a little better with that reassurance, but still far from relaxed. "C'mon. Got somethin' to tell you and the other Chargers." He said scratching at the underside of a horn.


End file.
